


loveology

by swallows (toska)



Category: Pokemon
Genre: F/M, ahh young love, regina spektor songs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-04
Updated: 2013-03-04
Packaged: 2017-12-04 07:32:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/708159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toska/pseuds/swallows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(brawly/roxanne— on being young and being in love)</p>
            </blockquote>





	loveology

**Author's Note:**

  * For [petaldancing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/petaldancing/gifts).



> HAPPY BIRTHDAY IBU!!! you're twenty now and just as fabulous! you've reached a new milestone in your life and i'm glad to be part of this one! you requested this from me a long time ago and today i deliver!

**loveology**

(brawley/roxanne— on being young and being in love)

.

Being students ( _kids_ ) in love is hard and awkward.

Especially it’s when it’s with her.

But he really does love her— black hair, pale skin, cherry chapstick (because  _lip gloss is too impractical_ ) and the calloused hands that come from her training and tending to her pokémon.  She’s smart, clever— far too witty for him, for anybody. And sometimes he likes to imagine her all grown up, pencil skirt and sensible button ups with a blazer.

But most of all, he like to imagine her with him.

.

She likes to learn through her fists. (She’s his kind of girl, a type that doesn’t care if she gets a bit roughed up and toughed up.)

“You can learn a lot about pokémon through battling,” she says, “I don’t mind getting my hands dirty for knowledge.” 

“So is that a yes to a battle?” He asks— tossing his pokéball in the air casually. 

She smirks.

He laughs.

.

It’s his first date and he’s proud and cocky and maybe just a bit nervous because he finally got the girl, and she’s biting back a smile. Her hair is the same as always, and he finds himself happy that she didn’t doll herself up for this date, he likes seeing her being herself.

He takes her to the movies and wasn’t all that romantic, but he likes to think she was smitten anyways.

He sure was.

.

“Fighting pokémon suit you,” she says to him once.

“Why?”

“Because you’re a fighter, and even the way you surf is similar to the way you fight in battles. You know how to keep yourself balance and hang on even through the toughest waves. You’re always calm too, and it might not seem like it, but you are quite a deep thinker.” She admits and he found his cheeks going hot in response.

“Rock pokémon suit you,” he says, staring at the ground with hands shoved in his pockets. “You’re a head on the grounds kind of girl with a love of rocks.”

“Y’know, you’re the rock, the pillar, that my waves hit,” he remarks cheekily.

She laughs and entwined her hands with his.

It’s probably the closest thing to an “ _I love you_ ,” he has ever said.

.

And six months later, he feels her eroding.

It’s a subtle thing, filled with faraway glances and sentences that get smaller with each passing day and smiles that get more half-hearted and forced.

She’s weathering away and saying, “ _No, not today_ ” to dates and now he’s just stuck with flashbacks of the girl he loves.

.

The second date they went on wasn’t much of a date, but a pokémon battle.

In which they had a tumble in the sun and then had a picnic on her Nosepass and life had infinite possibilities where it was just him and her.

Staring at the girl who fell asleep on his shoulder, he’s not sure what happened to those possibilities.

He doesn’t want to start counting backwards.

.

“ _I’m in love with you_ ,” he wants to blurt out. He is young and in love with a girl so sturdy, like board he uses to surf the waves. He likes to go hiking with her to meditate and watching her read those books in the library.   

“Oh, what an incurable humanist you are,” he finds himself saying — scoffing. “You with your boxes and your structures and labels and your inability to see beyond what is there is.”

Her eyes flash — hurt as she responds. “You with your waves and you lack of ability to understand. You’re the one not using your potential. I can see just fine and all I see is a  _waste of space_.”

She spins around and stalks off.

.

It’s 3:28 in the morning and he’s wondering if he should learn  _forgive-me-ology_.

.

It’s hard being young and in love, he thinks— watching her from the other side of the room trying to ignore the hushed whispers and shifty glances.

His usually pleasant temperament is gone, and her voice is shaky, cold and distant.

“ _Go away_ ,” he hears her saying to the people that approach her in question.

“Just fuck off.” He snarls, to the people who come to him.

.

He spends the night a cave, Makuhita in tow. The cave is cold and damp, but it feels like home.

He spends his time wandering around, when he meets a man— Steven Stone.

“Is it a girl?”

“Huh?” He looked to the older man in surprise, “How did you know?”

Steven laughed, “It’s always a girl. For me it’s a red-hair spitfire. For you…” Steven trails offs looking at him expectantly.

For him there is only Roxanne, the pillar that his waves crash upon. Roxanne, whose hands are just calloused as his because she loves to go rock climbing. Roxanne, who likes to read more than anyone should, but she doesn’t mind playing in the mud.

Roxanne.

.

Apologizing is as hard as confessing, he thought as he stood there in front of her.

A part of him wished he brushed up on his  _sorry-ology_ , as he stammered his apology, eyes on hers. (It turned out he really didn’t half to, when her hands found themselves wrapped around his waist, her face buried in his chest, as she whispered— “ _I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry_.”

He returned the hug, and whispered back. They weren’t certainly back together, but they were friends.

He decided that he liked this word even better.

 _Friends_.)

.

“Hey, do you think we fell in love too early?” He asked her a few weeks later.

They were lying on the grass, with their pokémon out of their pokéballs— running amok or relaxing, as they stared into the cloudy sky.

“Yeah, I think I do.” She admits softly, and then sits up and stares at him.

 “Why?” He questioned— turning over to look at her. A part of him understands those words, but a part of him is scared to know where she is going with this. Still he questions her, eyebrow raised curiously, waiting for her to speak.

“I guess it is hard being a kid and falling in love— it’s incredibly confusing, well it’s always confusing. But when you are a kid, everything is a flurry of passions and kid’s being dumb, with us being dumb and maybe our minds aren’t rational yet for such an irrational thing called love.” She pauses for a second, before turning to him with a smile.

“Want to try again in a few years, when we aren’t as dumb?” She asked, grinning and he found himself grinning back at her too as he replied.

“Of course.”

.

**fin**


End file.
